


Rooftops

by taormina



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taormina/pseuds/taormina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt didn’t know what hit him when Frank kissed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It took him a couple of minutes to realise that the rapid heartbeat he was hearing wasn’t Frank’s. It was, in fact, his own, racing and thumping against his chest when Frank suddenly leant forward and kissed him with aplomb. Like Frank knew exactly what Matt needed. Like he’d known what Matt liked all along.

The kiss was new and dirty and oh so wrong under these cold, dreary circumstances on a dark night in Hell’s Kitchen, but Matt didn’t care, not really. He’d done far dirtier things tonight. Even a horny kiss couldn’t sully his Daredevil uniform. 

And oh, how overwhelming it all was! The smell of Frank’s aftershave was addictive. The sudden spike of Frank’s adrenaline, contagious to the point of exhilarating. Everything Frank felt, Matt experienced tenfold. Every dulcet word Frank whispered against his chapped lips was true and beautiful. There was even something exciting about his heartbeat.

Matt couldn’t see the look on Frank’s face when he kissed him back hungrily, but he did hear his eyes flutter closed. His unsteady breathing. That hungry gasp when one of Frank’s hands found themselves on Matt’s neck, squeezing slightly in a final, redundant attempt to seize control in an already out-of-control night. And then his other hand, finding a painful spot on Matt’s body where his Daredevil suit had failed him. There was a deep, bloodied cut the size of a pencil, but Matt hardly felt the pain as Frank’s fingers trailed past it, hands splayed like he was trying to take it all in.

His entire body rendered useless in the process of being kissed, Matt could only sit back and relax. Enjoy it.

Understandably, Matt hadn’t really considered kissing Frank before coming up here to fight criminals alongside him, on a rooftop far, far away from onlookers and civilians. (Matt, as Daredevil, had insisted that this particular task didn’t require someone brash like The Punisher, but Frank had insisted that Daredevil couldn’t finish this damn job without him. Daredevil was too kind and lenient for the type of bad criminal they were up against. He was right.)

At the end of the day, though, this was just an ordinary job, a doleful night like any other night, full of violence and pain and potential heartache in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. For Matt, these nights were simply not made for simple pleasures like being kissed on the mouth by someone far more handsome than he had any right being, but then it happened. Just like that. And the entire city stopped.

The criminals they had fought only minutes ago lay on the ground, arms and legs akimbo as they dreamt the dark dreams only bad men’s minds could create. Their hearts were still beating, albeit faintly. In a moment of self-reflection and kindness, The Punisher had spared him. Any minute now, they’d be turned over to the police, and the people of New York would be able to sleep in peace a night longer. Daredevil and his unlikely companion had done an excellent job.

Despite their victory, Matt had had more than enough of tonight. He wanted to leave. He might even be able to get a good night’s rest if he did; sometimes, he felt as though he hardly slept at all. Most nights, his bed felt like no more than an unused piece of furniture in the middle of an equally unloved house. Tonight might be different, and it was.

Matt felt the breeze of the cold night air on the bruise on his right cheek, and then Frank kissed him. Without reason. Everything else – the soundscape of car honks and city noise; the body ache; the dozens of voices of people who might have needed him more – was blocked out. For a simple second, Hell’s Kitchen no longer even existed.

The kiss wasn’t a dare, it wasn’t a distraction in order to slit Daredevil’s throat; it was just that, a kiss. A moment shared between two people who were hardly even lovers. In a different life, they would probably never even have met at all. In a different time, Matt might not even have enjoyed the slowly . . . creeping . . . down of Frank’s other hand until it felt a gentle spot far dirtier than a bloodied piece of skin. That’s when the real fireworks went off in his head.

After, Matt could still hear Frank’s quick heartbeat, and the sound of quickly leaving feet only seconds later. He could still feel his own trembling body as he got to his feet and realised how much longer he would have liked the kiss to be. God knows he’d kissed far too many people over the years, strangers and lover alike, but never a friend or foe like The Punisher. Never someone like _him_ , who could be so dangerous. Never someone so appealing.

In a haze of confusion, Matt tried to run after Frank and ask him for his reasons for kissing him, but he could no longer focus on the sounds around him.

His own, infatuated thoughts were far louder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus chapter because I was feeling inspired. Thanks for the comments on the previous one.

It wasn’t at all easy to find Frank afterwards. It was as if being kissed by him created this loud, all-consuming staccato of thoughts in the dirty depths of Matt’s head, making it impossible to focus on the very things he needed to hear: the harsh gruff that was Frank’s voice. His heartbeat, still elevated like Matt’s in the aftermath of their kiss. His gasps. Then Daredevil got side-tracked by a young, scared child that needed his help, and he lost the last trace of Frank he had. Even the ghost of Frank’s fingers on Matt’s crotch, touching but not quite, went up in smoke along with the rest of him. It was as though they’d never even kissed at all.

There wasn’t a single sign of Frank or his violent alter ego anywhere in the city. He even disappeared off the police radar. Gone AWOL. Slowly but surely the police started to assume The Punisher had at last been murdered and gone to meet his not so forgiving Maker, but Matt knew better. Frank was ashamed. Perhaps he felt his pride had been comprised. If he didn’t, he would not be trying so damn hard to run away from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen in the middle of the night.

Did Matt feel embarrassed about it too? God knows he should, but never once during that thirteen-second kiss did Matt feel shame or regret. Whether he’d kissed Frank back out of love or as the result of the high spike of adrenaline after their rooftop fight he did not know, but he did know one thing: he’d love to find out. _Desperately._

And so, it turned out, did Frank.

By sheer luck – or just because Frank _wanted_ Daredevil to find him – Matt picked up Frank’s voice on a cold winter night just weeks after they’d kissed. Even in a thick fog of other sounds, Frank’s voice sounded clearer than ever before, like he was perfectly aware someone was out there listening out for him. Even his heartbeat sounded as if he knew exactly what it wanted; to be found, and to be kissed again like he was on that rooftop.

For a second, Matt hesitated. He had previously kissed other people – men and women alike – and not wanted to kiss some of them ever again; he could easily forget this kiss with Frank had ever happened and cease his questionable partnership with The Punisher altogether. They were a bad combination, anyway, the two of them: Matt was too soft, too kind, while Frank was too hard and unforgiving. It’d be like mixing oil and water. Frank would never be able to beat the gentleness out of Matt, and Matt would never be able to kiss Frank onto the path of repentance.  

But that didn’t make Matt want to stop trying.

Off he went, into the night, in pursuit of that one voice. He went as Daredevil, of course, but deep down Matt hoped his partner in crime liked more about him than just his red suits and battle bruises. It was a pointless thought, he knew, but one he rather liked the thought of; he might even be able to get to know each other now. Properly, as regular citizens, and not on the back of bad nights and chases.

Matt found Frank in the epicentre of car honks, club sounds, pop music, and dialogues of aroused, drunken voices that were all after the same thing. It was an odd place to meet, in this alleyway only a heartbeat away from New York’s nightlife, but Matt guessed that was the whole point; at least this way, he wouldn’t be able to hear Frank’s heart sing.

There was no sound, no nervous voices asking for permission because they both already knew what they desired. There was just the faint hum of recognition, and then a gasp when a pair of hands touched something they shouldn’t, again. The sound of a zipper being pulled. They didn’t talk, but they didn’t have to. Frank had seen enough in his life to understand people’s behaviour, and Matt sensed enough not to have to see anything. The way Frank’s body trembled against his own said it all.

Without sight, it almost felt as if they were fighting, at first. There were the calloused fists and the bloodied lips and the huffs and puffs as body parts were probed had tested, and then the pain. Oh, so much pain. But then Frank must’ve taken off his shirt and softened his actions, for things suddenly stopped hurting entirely. Things became blissful and wonderful and so wrong, and the rapture came far too soon when Matt did against Frank’s stomach.

He was hardly aware of the noise all around him. All he heard, was Frank’s moans, louder and louder as he kept rubbing up against him still. Then there was the more familiar rise of Frank’s heartbeat, and it was over. The two masked vigilantes’ collaboration was over.

Afterwards, Matt again regretted not going after Frank when he had the chance, but it hardly mattered. The fact he could still hear Frank say something nice in his ear, did.

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling really down about my writing today, so I decided to write something a bit different today. Hope you like.


End file.
